Random Orcs, or We Fell to Middle Earth
Chapter Seven: Massage and the Art of the Tongue
by Galadriel Tolkien
Pain was the first thing I felt as I awoke. My ribs had been shattered in the Balrog's first strike, slivers sliding deeply into my lungs as I'd fought. If I hadn't been crushed, I probably would have drowned in my own blood. But those hurts were slightly lessened, when compared to the massive ache that was my back. It was broken in three places, the pressure of the Balrog shattering disks like so much fine china.
I hissed out a breath, surprised to find I wasn't swimming in blood. My healing powers had kicked in, apparently. Or I'd died and come back. Either way, I wasn't in quite as bad shape as I'd expected.
Another breathe. Breathing felt really really good. In. Out. In. Out.
Finally, the silence called me back to matters at hand, and I carefully sat up, wincing as a cracked rib twinged.
The ground around me was blackened, littered with ash and bones. I was betting the Balrog was dead. But had it taken Gandalf with it?
I began carefully crawling among the wreckage, avoiding the bones when I could, digging through the layers of sooty ash. I became more and more frantic as I began to run out of dead Balrog to search. He had to still be up here, didn't he? He couldn't have been thrown down the mountain.
And then I saw him, a crumpled heap of grey robes and matted hair.
I cried out in shock, then hissed as my ribs protested again. I was actually impressed with the healing going on, since it seemed to be hyper-actively sealing every ache and pain. With careful movements I crawled towards the sprawled mass of robes. It had to be him, there wasn't any other place he could be. Closer, I could see streaks of blood dotting things here and there, and one out-stretched hand, completely white and lifeless in the bitter cold.
"You're not allowed to be dead, you idiot." I muttered, carefully feeling around the wrist for a pulse. There was nothing, so I cursed softly and moved to where his head should be.
His eyes were open, staring unseeingly out at nothing.
"No." I felt at his neck, then his chest. Nothing. A tear slid down my cheek, gilding my face with ice as the bitter wind hit me. "Gandalf..." With a sigh, I carefully tranced down, searching his body for soul and a tiny spark of life. Any life, at all.
I missed it on my first pass--I was trying too hard, moving through his body too quickly. I had to stand up and pace, working out the kinks in my body as the accelerated healing dragged muscle and bone back into place, reknitting connective tissue like fine spiderwebs.
"You're not dead, you damned wizard. You're not." I ranted, "It's not allowed. I'm supposed to die, others aren't. That's why I let it crush me." I dropped to my knees beside him, surprised to find tears streaming down my cheeks. "You can't die on me, you bastard."
With careful deliberation, I pulled one of my knives out. I calmly drew it across my left wrist, wincing as the sting bit in and blood welled out of the slice. I caught several drops on my fingertip, and gently dotted them on his forehead and lips. "With my blood, I heal you. With my life, I call you. Come back to Middle Earth, Gandalf, your time is not finished! annayalcoirëa!"
I had no clue what I'd said at the last.
For a moment, there was silence. Then I sensed a part of the mountain almost... die. I didn't have time to ponder on that, for a lance of lightning stabbed into me, through me, and into Gandalf.
Pain shattered outwards as I bore the brunt of the strike, my body arching, my mouth opening in a silent scream.
And then it was gone, leaving me collapsed on his chest, limbs unable to do anything but shake.
His chest moved. I heard him draw that first, shuddering breath, and felt a sense of relief. I had won. He lived.
Time passed, as I tried to remember how to breathe properly myself. Eventually, I realised his hand was slowly stroking my hair, and I wriggled around so I could face him. "Hi."
"I dreamt you called me..." he whispered, his eyes closed as if resting.
"Yes."
"I was resting.... so peaceful..."
I kissed him gently, curling myself around him to share warmth as we waited for whatever would come, "I am sorry, my dear. This world needs us both still."
"...tired..."
"I know." I closed my eyes and sighed, tension leaving me as I set a low-level warming spell around us. "Rest."
A soft snore answered me, and I chuckled, releasing the last of my tension and spiraling down into sleep myself.
--
It was the beat of wings which awoke me from my warm sleepy haze. I opened my eyes to find a very large eagle backwinging to land near us. For a time, we regarded each other. I sensed no malice from him, but didn't know what he thought of me curled around Gandalf and sharing his robes as a blanket.
"Hello?"
"So. It speaks." He snapped his beak in what I took to be amusement. "And you are the feature in a sight strange for me to behold."
"Really?" I carefully sat up, dissipating the warming spell.
"It is not often that I see my wizard friend enmeshed in a female's embrace."
"That's probably because most women are blind to his mind." I retorted, standing and wincing as several things still half-healed twinged.
"You are wise, young one."
I chuckled, "Not so young, O Great One."
He laughed. I think that's what it was, anyway. It certainly didn't sound like such. "You amuse me, my lady."
"Marya." I supplied.
"I am Gwahir, Son of the Eagles."
"I don't suppose you were here to help us?"
He sobered, "The Lady Galadriel has bid me watch these mountains for such wizardly activity. I am saddened that I came so late to the battle, but great winds delayed me."
I blinked, "I think that was me. Sorry." Apparently, my healing-spell had done more than I'd thought.
He studied us for a moment, then nodded, "I believe I might bear both of you, for a short while. Then we may see more of my brethren, and the burden will be lessened."
"My thanks." I knelt at Gandalf's side, and gently shook him. "Wake up, my love."
An eye popped open, looking almost amused, "I am awake." He sat up slowly, looking at Gwahir in amusement. "It's been most interesting, listening to you charm the Lord of the Eagles."
I shrugged, "Comes with the territory."
He blinked at me, his eyes suddenly wide with shock. "Your hair..."
"Huh?" Reflexively, I reached up for the bun I'd shoved it into all those miles ago. It wasn't there. Instead, there was stubble, and horrific-feeling burns. "My gods..." I hadn't even felt it. The lightning must have done it.
Gandalf caught my arm, "We will have time for this later."
"Yeah, later." I felt numb. It had been a long time since I'd been totally hairless. I didn't know why it bothered me so much. It was just hair.
He led me to Gwahir, who had moved to stand at the edge of the platform, and we both were carefully hoisted by the giant eagle. For a moment, nothing happened, then Gwahir inhaled, and we dropped from the mountain into air.
It was one of the most wondrous experiences of my life. Crisp clean air, sheeting past us as we soared up into the wide blue sky. I gave a gurgle of laughter, startling both of my companions, then began to sing very softly. It was a song of joy and happiness, in a language I'd known long ago and was remembering now. At least, that's what I thought it was.
All I knew was that it was beautiful and serene, and wove through the air around us like a blanket of peace.
There would be time for cares and woes, hairdressers and tears, later.
We traveled by eagle-relay for the next couple hours, as they wafted us gently over the last of the mountains and down into a green valley, seated around a river.
I realised as we got closer that it was a familiar valley. A slight grin touched my face as we set down in the little hollow outside the borders of the green and gold forest of Lorien. Haldir was sure to ask after his clothes. How to tell him they'd been lost to orcs?
--
"It is late afternoon, my friends." Gwahir had borne Gandalf the final stretch of time, and he seemed concerned over both our welfares. "You will not make Caras Galadhon tonight."
"No, my friend, we must beg hospitality of the border guards." Gandalf glanced at me, "You have been named elf-friend, Marya, as have I. They should welcome us with kindness, if not with happiness."
"Lead the way, kemo-sabe." I replied with a shrug. The day had worn me down in more ways then I could count. The endless cold deep, the long stair, and the battle. And Gandalf's resurrection had left me in need of sleep. A week would do it. Maybe.
We had nearly reached the shelter of the golden trees when two archers stepped out, studying us and our escort.
"So," said the one on the right, "Mithrandir, you have finally returned to Lorien."
The one on the left was staring at me. I shrugged, "Heya, Haldir. Long time, no see."
"I do not believe it." He stepped forward, bow dropped to his side, and touched my cheek. "You are alive."
"It happens." I looked at Gwahir, "I hate to be pushy, but I'm hungry. You menfolk can stay up half the night gabbing, but some of us need our beauty rest."
"Your hair..." Haldir said softly.
I winced, "Yeah. Not much to look at, am I?"
Gandalf's hand touched the back of my neck, "My lady needs sleep, gentlemen."
For once, I didn't object to any macho bullcrap. I was worn beyond repair, almost. And sad with the loss of my hair. And there was no damned coffee. Anywhere. It was enough to make a girl scream.
I drifted to sleep on the platform of Haldir's tree, wrapped in several cloaks and blankets, and listening to the droning of soft voices, speaking in a language I half-understood. Occasionally, I caught references to me. Luthien, they called me, their voices filled with wonder as they listened to Gandalf's recounting of the journey from Rivendell.
Comforting as the voices were, I was soon asleep, my dreams filled with dark horror and pain. I twisted away from the torture, fighting for what I desperately needed.
Darkness ruled, the deep dark of Moria, as things wrapped me in their coils, dragging me down into thick sludge. I choked on it, breathing in what tasted like rancid blood. The liquid burned down my throat, causing me to gasp, which sent more down to my stomach.
The scene changed, then, and I walked on a plain, it stretched into forever, dust grey and thick under my feet. Cliche upon cliche. The plain opened under my feet and I fell into a mountain of fire, the lava burning my hair from my head and leaving me a dying husk of a human on the floor.
Burned in and out, I wept, despair wrapping around me and drawing me deeper into its toils.
And then the parades began. Long lines of people I had once known, brutally slaughtered, their heads half hanging from their shoulders, their hands smashed into pulp as their eyes accused me silently. I had failed them all, let them die in their youth. Because of me they would know only pain and fear. Happiness? Yeah, right. They were tortured to death, their innards brutally maligned and ripped out.
More came, never-ending, and I saw friends I had known before the breaking of the barriers, and the melting of universes. Skin stripped from their very bones, eyes eaten from their sockets, and still they came, shuffling slowly as blood and thicker things dribbled down to the dust, turning it into sludge.
I must have screamed, for I awoke to find Gandalf shaking me, worry in his eyes. I blinked, and the light faded from around me, plunging us into darkness again.
"What happened?" I croaked, wincing at the lacerated feel of my throat.
"You screamed."
Haldir appeared over his shoulder, carrying a small lantern. He looked at me, something in his eyes hurting somewhere. I'd deal with it later. I didn't have time to worry about someone fearing me.
"Is that all I--ow--did?" I sat up, still in the circle of Gandalf's arms.
"No, you were also glowing, my lady." Haldir handed me a cup of something warm.
I sipped it automatically, then winced as it hit my throat. As smooth and clear as it was, it still aggravated the lining of my throat. Glowing, lacerating my throat with a single scream, and massively BAD dreams. Oh yeah, my night was gonna be peaceful.
Gandalf removed himself from my person, and I felt a sharp sense of loss. I sighed audibly. He chuckled and sat cross-legged next to me, our legs touching at the knees. I sipped the drink again, glad to know it was hurting less this time.
"Your dreams," Gandalf started.
"They're a price." I said softly.
"For?"
"Life." I didn't feel like elaborating. For one thing, my throat was still too raw for the involved discussion that would ensue. And for another, I needed to try sleeping again. I handed Haldir the cup, and gave him a wry look, "I don't suppose that was a sleeping draught, was it?"
He blinked, startled, "No my lady."
"Ah." I looked at Gandalf, eyebrow raised, "I don't suppose you'd mind snuggling up with me?"
I was too tired to care that I sounded very forward. Besides, we'd been snuggled on the mountaintop, and he hadn't seemed to mind.
"Will it help you to sleep peacefully?"
Not really, but having someone cuddled against me tends to make me feel less out of touch with reality. And, well... I also really just wanted to hold him. For once, it wasn't sexual. But I needed to be held and to hold, and I was really not looking forward to a night alone. "Uh..." I sighed, "No. But having you near will be comforting."
"Very well," He glanced at Haldir, "We were done with our discussions anyway."
I yawned, nodded, and lay down again, leaving him space next to me under the cloaks and blankets. He slipped away to attend to one or two more things, then came back to me as I lay in my half-drowsy state. I felt him slip in, almost rigid with tension, as if afraid I'd reject him or something. With a mumble, I wrapped my arms around him and snuggled up, wincing at the realisation that he was freezing. "...idiot..."
He snorted, but relaxed into my hold, turning, so I could slip my head under his chin. "Silly woman."
"...fuck you..."
"Maybe later."
"Good." I replied, awake again for a moment. I tilted my head up to catch his eye. "I'd hate to think this was all for nothing." I sensed that I'd caused him to blush again, and smirked.
"Incorrigeable woman."
"You should be thanking your gods for that." I yawned again and closed my eyes. "Night."
--
I awoke alone under the cloaks, and sighed. Judging by the angle of the sun I could see filtering through the trees, it was midmorning. My dreams had been full of pain and terror, but somehow, it had felt removed a step, as if Gandalf's presence sent my nightmares screaming from his personality. I could identify with that, I decided grumpily as I stood up, keeping one of the cloaks for its more conventional purpose.
They'd left me alone on the platform. "Probably off deciding the Fate of Nations," I muttered grumpily.
"We went to fetch you breakfast." A voice admonished from the hole in the floor. Gandalf followed his voice, eyes twinkling as he saw me standing there. "You need to eat before we march on to the castle of Galadriel and Celeborn, after all."
"Food." I hadn't eaten in.... I realised I had no idea how long it had been. Days? Weeks? A month? "Gimme."
I devoured several apple slices, or what was probably apples. They were fresh, the juices running down my chin and dripping on my shirt.
Gandalf handed me a small piece of cloth that was slightly damp. I used it to wipe away the traces of my breakfast, then stood. Lothlorien beckoned to me, the golden trees shimmering in my mind as pillars of gentle strength. I felt peace emanating from it, wrapping me in its warmth.
Gandalf was watching me again, and I blinked at him. "What?"
"There is something so odd about you."
"Thank you." I snorted, "Let's go, O Great One."
We exited the platform down the ladder, reaching the forest floor without trouble. Around us birds whistled softly into the glorious morning light, and I sighed happily. Peace called from Lorien, a peace I hadn't known for a long time.
I don't know why it hadn't called me before, but it seemed that I wasn't meant to be there till now.
As our journey into the golden wood progressed, I grew more certain that I belonged there. More sure of the welcome I would receive. It was like coming home after a long battle to find my family around me, with feasts and joy.
Gandalf and our guide seemed unaware of my growing feeling of zen, but I didn't mind. It was my feeling and no one else's. I might once have wanted to share it, but I was so weary of my life, of journeying beyond reality and into pain so much.
Haldir had left us at the forest's edge, passing us to his kindred like a parcel. The young elf who led us seemed well enough, but I would have liked Haldir's company.
He hadn't asked after his clothing.
--
Caras Galadhon was exceptionally beautiful. Spires of golden wood twined around grey and green and silver to form glorious arches and paths, stairways that led up deep into the golden heights, with starlight cascading down them in the form of silvery light gilding the railings. I stared at it in awe, my mouth open.
It was like coming home, in a way. I reveled in the feeling of peaceful timelessness that radiated from the very grass of the wood. Like being wrapped in a warm and fluffy blanket fresh from the dryer, I felt warmed and loved.
This feeling was tempered by the knowledge that we had not yet traversed the endless stair to meet our hosts. But I could deal with that, knowing that I was accepted.
We were relieved of our weapons at the entrance to the stairs, and I pondered a moment before removing every knife upon my person. I think a few dropped jaws were worth not having sharp things when we met the King and Queen of the forest.
I could always just blast them with magic, or something.
Gandalf was giving me an amused look as we climbed the stairs. I tried my best innocent blank face on him. He didn't buy it, but his eyes were dancing with laughter.
We reached the top of the stairs eventually, and stepped into a large open chamber. It had a dais at one side, and we approached, me watching the seated figures intently. The woman betrayed nothing, but on the man's face, I caught a glimpse of suppressed joy and surprise. They were incredibly beautiful, blond hair cascading like long thin waterfalls from the crowns of their heads.
He rose, coming down the steps and clasping arms with Gandalf, "Mithrandir, beyond all hope."
She came down next, gliding as if on water, "We had thought you lost to the dark."
"I nearly was."
True. Very true. I kept a non-committal half-smile on my face as the three began speaking rapidly in elvish. I could pick up a word or three, but felt rather left out.
As if sensing my irritation, Gandalf turned to me, "My friends, may I present Marya Luthien, named Elf-friend by Elrond at his Council at Rivendell. Marya, this is Lord Celeborn and the Lady Galadriel."
I bowed, wishing for a long coat and swishy cape for dramatic effect, but settling for my slightly worn-out shirt and trousers. "M'Lord, M'Lady."
"Your Fellowship mentioned her." Celeborn said, "And lamented her as lost as you."
Nice to know I'd been mourned. Always gave life a nice little kick to feel appreciated and missed.
"Come, there is time for this later my Lord. They are weary to the bone and Mithrandir is like to fall over from lack of food." Galadriel announced, "You shall rest, friends, build up your strength. The whole of Caras Galadhon is yours to peruse."
"We will talk tomorrow, then." Gandalf bowed, and I followed his lead, bending forward again, wincing as my hair didn't flop forward like it had, long ago.
Galadriel caught my shoulder as I straightened, shock in her eyes, "I hadn't realised the extent of your injuries, my dear."
"It's nothing." I tried to smile, "I'm alive, after all."
And so was Gandalf. But I wasn't going to mention that part, unless I had to.
He caught my arm, "Tomorrow, my friend, remember?"
"Yes." She smiled at us both. But I caught a glimpse of something in her eyes as she looked at me, and I knew we were going to continue our talk later that night.
--
They gave us a lovely series of rooms at the base of the 'castle' tree. They were nicely furnished, with many soft bits of bedding and a low table that we sat cross-legged at, our feet tucked into thick woolly blankets. Bare feet. Without worry I'd step on stones, or something worse. It was heaven. So was the hot spring one of the elves had mentioned. I was so there, once I'd finished devouring my portion of food.
Halfway through my meal, I realised Gandalf wasn't eating. He seemed content to watch ME eat. I wasn't having any of that, however. "Old man, if you don't eat on your own, I'll have to sit on your chest and force-feed you."
"Is that a promise?" His eyes were twinkling in amusement.
"Yes." I got up on my hands and knees and stalked towards him, moving like a jungle cat. He watched me close, turning so he faced me fully as I reached his side of the table. "Eat. You'll need your strength."
"For?"
I smiled like a cat who'd been given something delightful to play with, "Oh, I'm planning on ravishing you mercilessly."
"Really?" He sounded almost hopeful.
I stepped closer, and caught his shoulders in my hands, "Really." He caught my arms as I shoved him backwards, and we went over together, me landing on top. I smirked into his eyes, "You don't mind, do you?"
For an answer, he shifted, sliding his arms around me and cupping the back of my head with one hand. He slowly drew me down, eyes watching mine intently. I stayed passive, lips automatically puckering up in anticipation. When our lips touched, it was almost electric, lightning flashing between us, then passion flowing.
I drew back, panting slightly, feeling my body waking up in ways it had been craving to do for way too long.
"I think I'm hungry." He said, shifting to sit up.
"Smart man." I replied, curling halfway in his lap. The hot springs could wait.
--
Note: The Quenya/Elven words I used in Marya's spell actually sort of exist. They are as follows: annayalcoirëa - Badly melded Quenya: With this gift, I summon you to life.
My apologies to all purists, but it sounds good, and it fits with what I needed to do.
Suzy.
Chapter Seven: Massage and the Art of the Tongue
by Galadriel Tolkien
Pain was the first thing I felt as I awoke. My ribs had been shattered in the Balrog's first strike, slivers sliding deeply into my lungs as I'd fought. If I hadn't been crushed, I probably would have drowned in my own blood. But those hurts were slightly lessened, when compared to the massive ache that was my back. It was broken in three places, the pressure of the Balrog shattering disks like so much fine china.
I hissed out a breath, surprised to find I wasn't swimming in blood. My healing powers had kicked in, apparently. Or I'd died and come back. Either way, I wasn't in quite as bad shape as I'd expected.
Another breathe. Breathing felt really really good. In. Out. In. Out.
Finally, the silence called me back to matters at hand, and I carefully sat up, wincing as a cracked rib twinged.
The ground around me was blackened, littered with ash and bones. I was betting the Balrog was dead. But had it taken Gandalf with it?
I began carefully crawling among the wreckage, avoiding the bones when I could, digging through the layers of sooty ash. I became more and more frantic as I began to run out of dead Balrog to search. He had to still be up here, didn't he? He couldn't have been thrown down the mountain.
And then I saw him, a crumpled heap of grey robes and matted hair.
I cried out in shock, then hissed as my ribs protested again. I was actually impressed with the healing going on, since it seemed to be hyper-actively sealing every ache and pain. With careful movements I crawled towards the sprawled mass of robes. It had to be him, there wasn't any other place he could be. Closer, I could see streaks of blood dotting things here and there, and one out-stretched hand, completely white and lifeless in the bitter cold.
"You're not allowed to be dead, you idiot." I muttered, carefully feeling around the wrist for a pulse. There was nothing, so I cursed softly and moved to where his head should be.
His eyes were open, staring unseeingly out at nothing.
"No." I felt at his neck, then his chest. Nothing. A tear slid down my cheek, gilding my face with ice as the bitter wind hit me. "Gandalf..." With a sigh, I carefully tranced down, searching his body for soul and a tiny spark of life. Any life, at all.
I missed it on my first pass--I was trying too hard, moving through his body too quickly. I had to stand up and pace, working out the kinks in my body as the accelerated healing dragged muscle and bone back into place, reknitting connective tissue like fine spiderwebs.
"You're not dead, you damned wizard. You're not." I ranted, "It's not allowed. I'm supposed to die, others aren't. That's why I let it crush me." I dropped to my knees beside him, surprised to find tears streaming down my cheeks. "You can't die on me, you bastard."
With careful deliberation, I pulled one of my knives out. I calmly drew it across my left wrist, wincing as the sting bit in and blood welled out of the slice. I caught several drops on my fingertip, and gently dotted them on his forehead and lips. "With my blood, I heal you. With my life, I call you. Come back to Middle Earth, Gandalf, your time is not finished! annayalcoirëa!"
I had no clue what I'd said at the last.
For a moment, there was silence. Then I sensed a part of the mountain almost... die. I didn't have time to ponder on that, for a lance of lightning stabbed into me, through me, and into Gandalf.
Pain shattered outwards as I bore the brunt of the strike, my body arching, my mouth opening in a silent scream.
And then it was gone, leaving me collapsed on his chest, limbs unable to do anything but shake.
His chest moved. I heard him draw that first, shuddering breath, and felt a sense of relief. I had won. He lived.
Time passed, as I tried to remember how to breathe properly myself. Eventually, I realised his hand was slowly stroking my hair, and I wriggled around so I could face him. "Hi."
"I dreamt you called me..." he whispered, his eyes closed as if resting.
"Yes."
"I was resting.... so peaceful..."
I kissed him gently, curling myself around him to share warmth as we waited for whatever would come, "I am sorry, my dear. This world needs us both still."
"...tired..."
"I know." I closed my eyes and sighed, tension leaving me as I set a low-level warming spell around us. "Rest."
A soft snore answered me, and I chuckled, releasing the last of my tension and spiraling down into sleep myself.
--
It was the beat of wings which awoke me from my warm sleepy haze. I opened my eyes to find a very large eagle backwinging to land near us. For a time, we regarded each other. I sensed no malice from him, but didn't know what he thought of me curled around Gandalf and sharing his robes as a blanket.
"Hello?"
"So. It speaks." He snapped his beak in what I took to be amusement. "And you are the feature in a sight strange for me to behold."
"Really?" I carefully sat up, dissipating the warming spell.
"It is not often that I see my wizard friend enmeshed in a female's embrace."
"That's probably because most women are blind to his mind." I retorted, standing and wincing as several things still half-healed twinged.
"You are wise, young one."
I chuckled, "Not so young, O Great One."
He laughed. I think that's what it was, anyway. It certainly didn't sound like such. "You amuse me, my lady."
"Marya." I supplied.
"I am Gwahir, Son of the Eagles."
"I don't suppose you were here to help us?"
He sobered, "The Lady Galadriel has bid me watch these mountains for such wizardly activity. I am saddened that I came so late to the battle, but great winds delayed me."
I blinked, "I think that was me. Sorry." Apparently, my healing-spell had done more than I'd thought.
He studied us for a moment, then nodded, "I believe I might bear both of you, for a short while. Then we may see more of my brethren, and the burden will be lessened."
"My thanks." I knelt at Gandalf's side, and gently shook him. "Wake up, my love."
An eye popped open, looking almost amused, "I am awake." He sat up slowly, looking at Gwahir in amusement. "It's been most interesting, listening to you charm the Lord of the Eagles."
I shrugged, "Comes with the territory."
He blinked at me, his eyes suddenly wide with shock. "Your hair..."
"Huh?" Reflexively, I reached up for the bun I'd shoved it into all those miles ago. It wasn't there. Instead, there was stubble, and horrific-feeling burns. "My gods..." I hadn't even felt it. The lightning must have done it.
Gandalf caught my arm, "We will have time for this later."
"Yeah, later." I felt numb. It had been a long time since I'd been totally hairless. I didn't know why it bothered me so much. It was just hair.
He led me to Gwahir, who had moved to stand at the edge of the platform, and we both were carefully hoisted by the giant eagle. For a moment, nothing happened, then Gwahir inhaled, and we dropped from the mountain into air.
It was one of the most wondrous experiences of my life. Crisp clean air, sheeting past us as we soared up into the wide blue sky. I gave a gurgle of laughter, startling both of my companions, then began to sing very softly. It was a song of joy and happiness, in a language I'd known long ago and was remembering now. At least, that's what I thought it was.
All I knew was that it was beautiful and serene, and wove through the air around us like a blanket of peace.
There would be time for cares and woes, hairdressers and tears, later.
We traveled by eagle-relay for the next couple hours, as they wafted us gently over the last of the mountains and down into a green valley, seated around a river.
I realised as we got closer that it was a familiar valley. A slight grin touched my face as we set down in the little hollow outside the borders of the green and gold forest of Lorien. Haldir was sure to ask after his clothes. How to tell him they'd been lost to orcs?
--
"It is late afternoon, my friends." Gwahir had borne Gandalf the final stretch of time, and he seemed concerned over both our welfares. "You will not make Caras Galadhon tonight."
"No, my friend, we must beg hospitality of the border guards." Gandalf glanced at me, "You have been named elf-friend, Marya, as have I. They should welcome us with kindness, if not with happiness."
"Lead the way, kemo-sabe." I replied with a shrug. The day had worn me down in more ways then I could count. The endless cold deep, the long stair, and the battle. And Gandalf's resurrection had left me in need of sleep. A week would do it. Maybe.
We had nearly reached the shelter of the golden trees when two archers stepped out, studying us and our escort.
"So," said the one on the right, "Mithrandir, you have finally returned to Lorien."
The one on the left was staring at me. I shrugged, "Heya, Haldir. Long time, no see."
"I do not believe it." He stepped forward, bow dropped to his side, and touched my cheek. "You are alive."
"It happens." I looked at Gwahir, "I hate to be pushy, but I'm hungry. You menfolk can stay up half the night gabbing, but some of us need our beauty rest."
"Your hair..." Haldir said softly.
I winced, "Yeah. Not much to look at, am I?"
Gandalf's hand touched the back of my neck, "My lady needs sleep, gentlemen."
For once, I didn't object to any macho bullcrap. I was worn beyond repair, almost. And sad with the loss of my hair. And there was no damned coffee. Anywhere. It was enough to make a girl scream.
I drifted to sleep on the platform of Haldir's tree, wrapped in several cloaks and blankets, and listening to the droning of soft voices, speaking in a language I half-understood. Occasionally, I caught references to me. Luthien, they called me, their voices filled with wonder as they listened to Gandalf's recounting of the journey from Rivendell.
Comforting as the voices were, I was soon asleep, my dreams filled with dark horror and pain. I twisted away from the torture, fighting for what I desperately needed.
Darkness ruled, the deep dark of Moria, as things wrapped me in their coils, dragging me down into thick sludge. I choked on it, breathing in what tasted like rancid blood. The liquid burned down my throat, causing me to gasp, which sent more down to my stomach.
The scene changed, then, and I walked on a plain, it stretched into forever, dust grey and thick under my feet. Cliche upon cliche. The plain opened under my feet and I fell into a mountain of fire, the lava burning my hair from my head and leaving me a dying husk of a human on the floor.
Burned in and out, I wept, despair wrapping around me and drawing me deeper into its toils.
And then the parades began. Long lines of people I had once known, brutally slaughtered, their heads half hanging from their shoulders, their hands smashed into pulp as their eyes accused me silently. I had failed them all, let them die in their youth. Because of me they would know only pain and fear. Happiness? Yeah, right. They were tortured to death, their innards brutally maligned and ripped out.
More came, never-ending, and I saw friends I had known before the breaking of the barriers, and the melting of universes. Skin stripped from their very bones, eyes eaten from their sockets, and still they came, shuffling slowly as blood and thicker things dribbled down to the dust, turning it into sludge.
I must have screamed, for I awoke to find Gandalf shaking me, worry in his eyes. I blinked, and the light faded from around me, plunging us into darkness again.
"What happened?" I croaked, wincing at the lacerated feel of my throat.
"You screamed."
Haldir appeared over his shoulder, carrying a small lantern. He looked at me, something in his eyes hurting somewhere. I'd deal with it later. I didn't have time to worry about someone fearing me.
"Is that all I--ow--did?" I sat up, still in the circle of Gandalf's arms.
"No, you were also glowing, my lady." Haldir handed me a cup of something warm.
I sipped it automatically, then winced as it hit my throat. As smooth and clear as it was, it still aggravated the lining of my throat. Glowing, lacerating my throat with a single scream, and massively BAD dreams. Oh yeah, my night was gonna be peaceful.
Gandalf removed himself from my person, and I felt a sharp sense of loss. I sighed audibly. He chuckled and sat cross-legged next to me, our legs touching at the knees. I sipped the drink again, glad to know it was hurting less this time.
"Your dreams," Gandalf started.
"They're a price." I said softly.
"For?"
"Life." I didn't feel like elaborating. For one thing, my throat was still too raw for the involved discussion that would ensue. And for another, I needed to try sleeping again. I handed Haldir the cup, and gave him a wry look, "I don't suppose that was a sleeping draught, was it?"
He blinked, startled, "No my lady."
"Ah." I looked at Gandalf, eyebrow raised, "I don't suppose you'd mind snuggling up with me?"
I was too tired to care that I sounded very forward. Besides, we'd been snuggled on the mountaintop, and he hadn't seemed to mind.
"Will it help you to sleep peacefully?"
Not really, but having someone cuddled against me tends to make me feel less out of touch with reality. And, well... I also really just wanted to hold him. For once, it wasn't sexual. But I needed to be held and to hold, and I was really not looking forward to a night alone. "Uh..." I sighed, "No. But having you near will be comforting."
"Very well," He glanced at Haldir, "We were done with our discussions anyway."
I yawned, nodded, and lay down again, leaving him space next to me under the cloaks and blankets. He slipped away to attend to one or two more things, then came back to me as I lay in my half-drowsy state. I felt him slip in, almost rigid with tension, as if afraid I'd reject him or something. With a mumble, I wrapped my arms around him and snuggled up, wincing at the realisation that he was freezing. "...idiot..."
He snorted, but relaxed into my hold, turning, so I could slip my head under his chin. "Silly woman."
"...fuck you..."
"Maybe later."
"Good." I replied, awake again for a moment. I tilted my head up to catch his eye. "I'd hate to think this was all for nothing." I sensed that I'd caused him to blush again, and smirked.
"Incorrigeable woman."
"You should be thanking your gods for that." I yawned again and closed my eyes. "Night."
--
I awoke alone under the cloaks, and sighed. Judging by the angle of the sun I could see filtering through the trees, it was midmorning. My dreams had been full of pain and terror, but somehow, it had felt removed a step, as if Gandalf's presence sent my nightmares screaming from his personality. I could identify with that, I decided grumpily as I stood up, keeping one of the cloaks for its more conventional purpose.
They'd left me alone on the platform. "Probably off deciding the Fate of Nations," I muttered grumpily.
"We went to fetch you breakfast." A voice admonished from the hole in the floor. Gandalf followed his voice, eyes twinkling as he saw me standing there. "You need to eat before we march on to the castle of Galadriel and Celeborn, after all."
"Food." I hadn't eaten in.... I realised I had no idea how long it had been. Days? Weeks? A month? "Gimme."
I devoured several apple slices, or what was probably apples. They were fresh, the juices running down my chin and dripping on my shirt.
Gandalf handed me a small piece of cloth that was slightly damp. I used it to wipe away the traces of my breakfast, then stood. Lothlorien beckoned to me, the golden trees shimmering in my mind as pillars of gentle strength. I felt peace emanating from it, wrapping me in its warmth.
Gandalf was watching me again, and I blinked at him. "What?"
"There is something so odd about you."
"Thank you." I snorted, "Let's go, O Great One."
We exited the platform down the ladder, reaching the forest floor without trouble. Around us birds whistled softly into the glorious morning light, and I sighed happily. Peace called from Lorien, a peace I hadn't known for a long time.
I don't know why it hadn't called me before, but it seemed that I wasn't meant to be there till now.
As our journey into the golden wood progressed, I grew more certain that I belonged there. More sure of the welcome I would receive. It was like coming home after a long battle to find my family around me, with feasts and joy.
Gandalf and our guide seemed unaware of my growing feeling of zen, but I didn't mind. It was my feeling and no one else's. I might once have wanted to share it, but I was so weary of my life, of journeying beyond reality and into pain so much.
Haldir had left us at the forest's edge, passing us to his kindred like a parcel. The young elf who led us seemed well enough, but I would have liked Haldir's company.
He hadn't asked after his clothing.
--
Caras Galadhon was exceptionally beautiful. Spires of golden wood twined around grey and green and silver to form glorious arches and paths, stairways that led up deep into the golden heights, with starlight cascading down them in the form of silvery light gilding the railings. I stared at it in awe, my mouth open.
It was like coming home, in a way. I reveled in the feeling of peaceful timelessness that radiated from the very grass of the wood. Like being wrapped in a warm and fluffy blanket fresh from the dryer, I felt warmed and loved.
This feeling was tempered by the knowledge that we had not yet traversed the endless stair to meet our hosts. But I could deal with that, knowing that I was accepted.
We were relieved of our weapons at the entrance to the stairs, and I pondered a moment before removing every knife upon my person. I think a few dropped jaws were worth not having sharp things when we met the King and Queen of the forest.
I could always just blast them with magic, or something.
Gandalf was giving me an amused look as we climbed the stairs. I tried my best innocent blank face on him. He didn't buy it, but his eyes were dancing with laughter.
We reached the top of the stairs eventually, and stepped into a large open chamber. It had a dais at one side, and we approached, me watching the seated figures intently. The woman betrayed nothing, but on the man's face, I caught a glimpse of suppressed joy and surprise. They were incredibly beautiful, blond hair cascading like long thin waterfalls from the crowns of their heads.
He rose, coming down the steps and clasping arms with Gandalf, "Mithrandir, beyond all hope."
She came down next, gliding as if on water, "We had thought you lost to the dark."
"I nearly was."
True. Very true. I kept a non-committal half-smile on my face as the three began speaking rapidly in elvish. I could pick up a word or three, but felt rather left out.
As if sensing my irritation, Gandalf turned to me, "My friends, may I present Marya Luthien, named Elf-friend by Elrond at his Council at Rivendell. Marya, this is Lord Celeborn and the Lady Galadriel."
I bowed, wishing for a long coat and swishy cape for dramatic effect, but settling for my slightly worn-out shirt and trousers. "M'Lord, M'Lady."
"Your Fellowship mentioned her." Celeborn said, "And lamented her as lost as you."
Nice to know I'd been mourned. Always gave life a nice little kick to feel appreciated and missed.
"Come, there is time for this later my Lord. They are weary to the bone and Mithrandir is like to fall over from lack of food." Galadriel announced, "You shall rest, friends, build up your strength. The whole of Caras Galadhon is yours to peruse."
"We will talk tomorrow, then." Gandalf bowed, and I followed his lead, bending forward again, wincing as my hair didn't flop forward like it had, long ago.
Galadriel caught my shoulder as I straightened, shock in her eyes, "I hadn't realised the extent of your injuries, my dear."
"It's nothing." I tried to smile, "I'm alive, after all."
And so was Gandalf. But I wasn't going to mention that part, unless I had to.
He caught my arm, "Tomorrow, my friend, remember?"
"Yes." She smiled at us both. But I caught a glimpse of something in her eyes as she looked at me, and I knew we were going to continue our talk later that night.
--
They gave us a lovely series of rooms at the base of the 'castle' tree. They were nicely furnished, with many soft bits of bedding and a low table that we sat cross-legged at, our feet tucked into thick woolly blankets. Bare feet. Without worry I'd step on stones, or something worse. It was heaven. So was the hot spring one of the elves had mentioned. I was so there, once I'd finished devouring my portion of food.
Halfway through my meal, I realised Gandalf wasn't eating. He seemed content to watch ME eat. I wasn't having any of that, however. "Old man, if you don't eat on your own, I'll have to sit on your chest and force-feed you."
"Is that a promise?" His eyes were twinkling in amusement.
"Yes." I got up on my hands and knees and stalked towards him, moving like a jungle cat. He watched me close, turning so he faced me fully as I reached his side of the table. "Eat. You'll need your strength."
"For?"
I smiled like a cat who'd been given something delightful to play with, "Oh, I'm planning on ravishing you mercilessly."
"Really?" He sounded almost hopeful.
I stepped closer, and caught his shoulders in my hands, "Really." He caught my arms as I shoved him backwards, and we went over together, me landing on top. I smirked into his eyes, "You don't mind, do you?"
For an answer, he shifted, sliding his arms around me and cupping the back of my head with one hand. He slowly drew me down, eyes watching mine intently. I stayed passive, lips automatically puckering up in anticipation. When our lips touched, it was almost electric, lightning flashing between us, then passion flowing.
I drew back, panting slightly, feeling my body waking up in ways it had been craving to do for way too long.
"I think I'm hungry." He said, shifting to sit up.
"Smart man." I replied, curling halfway in his lap. The hot springs could wait.
--
Note: The Quenya/Elven words I used in Marya's spell actually sort of exist. They are as follows: annayalcoirëa - Badly melded Quenya: With this gift, I summon you to life.
My apologies to all purists, but it sounds good, and it fits with what I needed to do.
Suzy.